


Just died in your arms tonight

by Queenofthefaceless



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Cowgirl Position, Cunnilingus, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mutual Pining, dominant frankie, lots of sexual acts in general so beware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29679720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthefaceless/pseuds/Queenofthefaceless
Summary: You’ve been doing everything possible to keep that goddamn secret for two years, but one game night, everything gets exposed and things escalate between you and Frankie.
Relationships: Ben Miller (Triple Frontier)/Original Female Character(s), Francisco "Catfish" Morales & Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Original Female Character(s), Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This goes very very well with Streets by Doja Cat. Just saying. Reader is dating Ben (he’s the injured party here I’m SO SORRY BABY), Frankie is a dominant and insatiable son of a bitch. Hints of infidelity (NOT RECOMMENDED KIDS). I may have finished writing this slightly tipsy so don’t come at me pls.

_This is a bad idea. I should’ve just said no. I should not have come here tonight._

That was the endless discourse going on your mind from the moment Pope told you he was going to pick you up and drive you to Will and Ben’s house until you were in his car, staring off in the long distance. It was the monthly game night, which meant that indiscretion, alcohol and everyone in the group being present were prerequisites to a chaotic and memorable evening. And it was always an amazing time. There was always laughter, borderline indecent stories and new memories made.

But this game night was organized on dangerous territory and it made you feel very much uneasy, to put it lightly.

The usual company was expected: Will and Ben, of course, since they were the hosts this time, Pope and his lady, Catherine, and Frankie. You adored each and every one of them, and especially Ben. You’ve been together for roughly a year and a half, and by all accounts, it was a wonderful relationship. Everything was great, and Ben was an amazing guy. You never missed any of his fights, always in the front row with his brother and two best friends, offering him your endless support and love, and Ben was treating you like a princess. You were happy. Cloud nine happy.

Or that’s how you should have felt, had it not been for that pestering, soul-crushing secret.

You had been hanging onto that secret for the past two years, painfully, desperately and as if your life depended on it. Which, whenever you thought about it, it might have been.

 _Frankie._ _Frankie was at fault._

His last name might have been Morales, but there was nothing moral whatsoever about that secret you’ve kept so expertly and ardently. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, but it did. He clearly wanted it, and so did you, and you had been chasing that same rush ever since.

In the two years that you’ve had to keep that moment to yourself, nothing and no one that followed it provided you with that same emotion or that same ecstasy. Nothing and no one felt like that, regardless of how hard you tried to shift your focus elsewhere. You implored your mind to no reminisce about that night whenever you were alone and touch-deprived.

To no avail.

Your own touch going in between your legs seemed possessed by the memory of Frankie’s, each sound felt like it belonged to him. You were the only possessor of that knowledge and things _had_ to remain that way, for everyone’s sake, but especially for Ben. You cared about him too much to let that information slip and crush him. What he didn’t knew couldn’t hurt him.

But every single time you so much as looked at Frankie, every single time he hugged you or kissed your cheek in an absurdly polite and friendly manner, the memory returned and devoured you, swallowed you in an ocean of guilty pleasure.

It had been the absolute best thing you had ever experienced. You were even ashamed to think so, strictly to yourself, but it was true. And Ben sure was a giving and amazing partner in bed, but whenever you dared to think back on that night that you shared with Frankie, you died a little on the inside knowing that Frankie was by far the best sex you’ve ever had. You sometimes went as far as to wonder why that was. You’ve always found yourself gravitating around Frankie ever since you’ve met a few years ago and you always considered him very attractive, by all means, but the timing never seemed right. Either he was unavailable or you were, and eventually, despite the tension you could’ve sworn lingered in between the two of you, you gave up.

But fucking hell, everything about that night had been intoxicating, and to this day it was stuck inside your mind like a blueprint, like it was the original sin. Frankie’s scent, the taste of his skin, his husky grunts and moans, his curses, the selfish yet wildly pleasurable way he pounded into you throughout the night, the way he pushed you past the edges of sanity and tested your buttons, even in his drunken haze, how he pleasured every part of you, his lips crashing against yours over and over and over –

It had been the longest, most intense and sexiest night of your life which now, two years later, you were forced to bury at the back of your mind, for you were the only one who knew about it. As blindly drunk as Frankie had been back then, he could never remember who the woman he slept with was. He had tried to identify her, but no luck. Part of you was eased, of course, it made it easier for you to keep things on the down low, but there was a larger part of you that wanted that again. You wanted that same high, that same pleasure, but nothing had been like that, and you knew that nothing ever will be. You were cursed to live with that knowledge and with whatever unresolved feelings you had for Frankie and shove them down. It was selfish and ignorant and many other terrible things, when Ben was right there, being all amazing and wonderful, but you couldn’t force those thoughts and feelings to just evaporate.

Deep down, your close friendship with Frankie was killing you slowly. It was the worst possible torture: he was everything you wanted, regardless of how hard you denied it or pretended like it never happened or in spite of the love you had for Ben. Your Benny. Adorable, hilarious, sassy and incredible Benny. You loved him. You knew you did.

But he was not the one you were _in_ love with.

It was too late for confessions now, anyway. Too much time had passed and once you met Ben, introduced you to his friends, including Frankie, and you realized how badly things were tangled, you decided there was no way in hell you would allow that secret to come to the surface.

So you agreed to go to another game night, remaining quiet in the backseat of the car as Pope and Catherine laughed in the front, clearly excited for the evening to commence.

“Hey, everything good back there, Y/N?” Pope asked you out of the blue.

“Yeah. Sure thing.” 

“You’re being awfully quiet, sweetie,” Catherine added, turning around to check on you. “You didn’t even sing along with us.”

You avoided her gaze and stared out the window. “It’s just been a long day today. That’s all. Don’t worry.”

“Good thing we get to blow off some steam tonight, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

You faked a smile which seemed to soothe Pope and Catherine and listened to the radio silently, despite the fact that your mind was a warzone. There had been plenty other instances when you’ve been in the same room with both Frankie and Ben and you pulled it off splendidly, managing to create a more than believable façade, but something about tonight gave you butterflies in your stomach, and not the good kind. Nonetheless, you forced yourself to relax and keep the same aura around everyone and enjoy yourself.

It was game night after all, at your boyfriend and his brother’s house. You definitely should have enjoyed yourself.

 _But not too much_ , you thought. _No over-drinking tonight._

When you were finally at the door, your heart began to pound so loud in your chest you feared Pope and Catherine might be able to hear it too. You gulped when Will opened the door and welcomed the three of you in, thanking you for the bottles of wine and appetizers.

You entered the living room cautiously and you smiled widely when you laid your eyes on Ben, but your heart sunk completely the second you noticed he was immersed into a passionate conversation with Frankie. It seemed Frankie was having one of his good nights; he was wearing a black t-shirt, fitting to his strong arms and chest, a pair of blue jeans and his hair was kinda messy, but just enough to think he actually might have styled it.

Both men smiled at you and greeted you with a loud cheer, but Ben stood up first and rushed to you to hug you tightly and kiss you intimately as he always did.

“How do you get prettier with each every day?” he asked, watching you in awe.

“Oh, you know, a little makeup, a little healthy living – “

“God, you’re the sexiest woman alive, look at you!”

He spun you around and you couldn’t help but let out a flustered giggle. Those were the moments when you realized how much you loved him, how much he tried – and succeeded – to be a great boyfriend to you.

“You do look gorgeous tonight, Y/N,” Frankie finally greeted you with a hug and a light kiss on your cheek.

You fought many impulses all at once, forcing a friendly smile at him, feeling your skin burn in the place where his lips so chastely touched you.

“Easy there, Catfish, that’s my girl,” Ben pretended to wrestle him.

“Come on, it’s not like that!”

The boys kept joking and playing around, so you took the opportunity to go to the kitchen and place the wine on the counter, smiling at Will. There was some sort of culpability in the way you fought hard to be civil and decent, and one thing that was surefire about Will was the fact that he could tell what his friends were up to in almost no time.

“So, what are we playing tonight?” you approached him.

He raised both brows at you, smirking. “I’ll give you a hint, it’s got nothing to do with Monopoly, honey.”

“The usual then.”

“You know it.”

The usual games included, but were not limited to, “Never have I ever”, “Spin the bottle” and “Truth or Dare”. They happened regardless of the level of drunkenness of the parties present, but they were guaranteed to be much more exposing and fun once everyone had a few drinks in them. And judging by how colorful and diverse the counter was in terms of alcoholic beverages, you were in for quite the evening.

“Poison of choice?” Will asked you.

“Oh, uh – maybe a little wine. I don’t really wanna get super wasted tonight.”

“Y/N, Benny and I spent the afternoon arranging the rooms for everyone to safely crash here. We bought enough bottles to drink all of our body weight in. We got you. We’re a family here.”

He put one arm around you and laughed. Family, you thought, a pit forming in your stomach. How could you be part of something so wonderful when you were secretly hurting his brother so much, and without him even knowing or realizing how deeply things ran?

Without asking a second time, Will poured you a shot of tequila, which was indeed your so-called poison of choice, and invited you to join the rest of the gang in the living room. Everyone was already in a circle, drinks in their hands. Ben scooched over in order to sit next to you, nuzzling on your shoulder.

“What should we start with?” Will asked.

“You and Benny are the hosts, you choose,” Pope said.

“Alright, how about Truth or Dare?”

Affirmative sounds were heard from everyone, and the game began. You found comfort in Ben’s presence right next to you, doing your absolute best in ignoring Frankie and – _oh, for fuck’s sake, did he start working out again or something? He looks too fucking good in that t-shirt, I –_

You shook your head, snapping yourself back to reality.

“Cat. Truth or dare?”

“I’m on my first vodka cranberry only but I am feeling bold, so… dare.”

“I dare you to tell us the… most outrageous place you and Pope did it in.”

“Dude!”

“Like you didn’t know questions of this kind will pop up!”

You giggled witnessing the protest going on between Will and Pope, and gasped loudly when Catherine confessed, without much trouble, “photo booth at a carnival last summer”. You fleetingly turned to Ben and noticed he looked a bit anxious, which triggered you in the slightest.

“Are you okay?” you checked on him. “You seem a bit… nervous.”

“Don’t worry about me, baby. I’m more than fine.”

“Okay, if you say so. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything is as perfect as it could be.”

He kissed your hand unpredictably, and it made you swoon. Once again he reminded you of the many reasons your relationship was so strong and wonderful that it needn’t have room for arguments or worries. Just as he lowered your hand back into your lap, you caught Frankie’s eyes, and you felt your throat close up. There was something undecipherable in his eyes, something you hadn’t picked up before, nor have you noticed prior. His mouth might be stretched into a dashing smile, but his caramel, warm eyes send an entirely dissimilar message.

The game continued, and the drinks kept being consumed. Catherine and Pope were the first ones who started revealing symptoms of drunkenness, but that doesn’t stop the questions from coming. And finally, after a while, Frankie became the target.

“Frankie, tell us,” Pope giggles, “truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Okay. What is… the best sex… you’ve ever had?”

“Ohh, that’s a good one!”

“I’m talkin’ – mind-blowing, steamy, dirty, all you can think of. Absolute best sex.”

Frankie falls deep in thought, pondering over his memories. For a brief moment, so short that you could even deny its existence in the first place, you feel fear. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. It wasn’t as if he would remember everything right then and there. And even if he did by some mystical force or miracle, there was no way he would rat you or the both of you out. All things aside, Frankie was a gentleman, a true friend first and foremost.

“You guys remember I told you about that super drunken night we all had at the club, about two years ago? I think it was Pope’s birthday.”

“Ah yeah, it was on my birthday!”

“When you hooked up with that chick?”

Frankie nods. “To this day, I have no idea who she was, but it sure was the most mind-blowing sex ever.”

You froze. Your fear is suddenly justified and this time, you stare blankly at Frankie, almost pleading him to act it out as a joke or anything of the sort.

But he does no such thing.

“Really?” you ask after a while, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was – _that_ was the best sex you’ve ever had? In your entire life?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what it was, but I’ll tell you one thing – “

“The hell you don’t know. You were fuckin’ loaded,” Pope laughed. “You were so drunk you bumped into the wall and apologized to it.”

“Fine, I was super wasted, but still – “

“You guys should’ve been there. I’ve never seen him that drunk. He would’ve done anything. Which I guess he did.”

The boys all smirked and chuckled, and you felt the incisive need to look away.

“What did you do?” Ben asked.

You turned your head to him, ready to beg for him not to ask questions, but it was too late. And it was not something that Frankie could’ve easily shared, either.

“It’s still a blur, but… lots of things. There was something super familiar about this girl. She was just… comfortable and… homey. Which made the sex all the more sweaty and crazy. And after that, it didn’t feel the same with anyone else. No one felt as good as that.”

You bit the inside of your mouth to refrain yourself from saying or even acting any other way than intrigued.

He was right. Of course he was right, but he had the luxury of not knowing. Meanwhile, everything he might have wanted to know about the apparent best sex of his life was right in front of him. Every position, every whisper, every moan, the whole fountain of truth was contained inside of you, and you fought harder than never to keep it to yourself.

Even if Frankie did just confess that he had been doing the very same thing as you have for the past two years: chasing that same high, and failing to find it. He wanted to feel all of those sensations again, and he had been searching high and low for them, with them nowhere to be found. You could’ve contemplated coming forward with the truth, but what was the point in it? You would’ve hurt Ben, Will, even Frankie and yourself in the process.

It was not worth it.

It had been a drunken mistake. It was buried in the past. You had to let it go.

“Y/N, truth or dare?” Frankie asked.

And there it was. The beginning of the end if you didn’t choose right.

“Truth.”

“Boring. But okay. What’s a kink you have that you haven’t shared with anyone before?”

Instinctively, all heads turned to you and you felt the alcohol burn your insides, already twisted in an unnatural and excruciating way. You gulped, staring directly at Frankie, having that outrageous memory return into your mind, offering you endless flashbacks of the way he pushed himself inside of you, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear in Spanish as he made you cum over and over again, the regal way he praised your body with his hands, his mouth and his cock –

Your whole face turned red, and Ben leaned over to you with a smirk on his face to whisper, “Is it the one time we were in the parking lot – “

“No, no, that’s not – no,” you shyly cut him off immediately.

“Parking lot?! What – “

“Are you really in the position to judge parking lot stories right now, Cat?”

Laughter was shared among the six of you while everyone anticipated your answer.

“Well?” Pope demanded. “What is it?”

“I don’t really have secret kinks,” you tried to explain sincerely. “Benny knows them and that’s – what matters.”

Suddenly, Will’s gaze intercepted yours, stuck on Frankie for who knows how long, and he studied you intently, as if waiting for some major breakthrough to happen.

“Not one shameful kink?” Catherine pushed.

“No.”

You were now five shots of tequila in, and you began to crave something else. You stood up to go to the kitchen, and thank God you did because you just heard Catherine dare Ben to share some indecent story about which position he liked the most, and you rolled your eyes in amusement. You knew the answer, too, but you thought he should have the spotlight for that moment.

“Drink?”

The voice shook you awake from your road to tipsiness, which you did not appreciate, but you recognized it nonetheless. You smiled at Frankie and nodded, noticing he was fixing you a gin and tonic.

“About before,” you began, unable to contain yourself. “The… best sex thing…”

Frankie huffed softly, making you ache. “It wasn’t a discrete story, but I’m guessing none of us would be here tonight if that were the case.”

You managed to giggle yourself.

“No, we wouldn’t. But… come on. Between us, friends – “

“What are those guys, the enemy?”

“Let’s not start that conversation.”

Frankie laughed wholeheartedly, much to your pleasure, and you couldn’t help but follow his mimics and gestures exactly.

“But come on, seriously now. That _cannot_ be the best sex in your life.”

“Why not?”

“I – I’m just saying, I mean – you probably get laid a lot, so…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘a lot’… I’m in a drought, actually. For a few months now. But it’s fine.”

“O-kay, uh… that’s… beside the point. Was that night… really the best? Out of everything you’ve ever had?”

You were genuinely curious. You didn’t have it in you to fight off the questions at least, if nothing else. You had to know. And Frankie nodded, instantly making you feel _worse_.

“Even though it was a drunken one night stand, it was… wild. It was so passionate and tender at the same time.”

“You still don’t remember anything from it?”

“Nope, not a thing. I know she had long, dark hair, and… that we had a lot of fun. I have these flashes of us, like… on top of each other, eating her out – “

“Yeah, okay, okay, got it.”

“Sorry for the TMI.”

You took the drink he casually offered to you, and you sighed deeply, admiring without your will the way that damned t-shirt fitted him. Ben wore t-shirts like that one often, and he was better built than Frankie, taller too, but something about Frankie was just… impossible to shake.

But you had to keep trying.

“I mean, you probably know what happened during the best sex of _your_ life,” Frankie laughed it off.

You eyed him up and down without him noticing, luckily, and smiled nervously. “I do,” was all you said.

You returned to the group, taking a big sip of the gin and tonic and resuming your seat next to Ben, who smiled at you and wrapped one arm around your neck, territorial and proud as usual. You could’ve sworn that time you saw Frankie’s glare in your direction, peppered again with that unfamiliar expression, but you cast it aside.

Apparently you had moved onto “Never have I ever,” and Pope’s sentence made everyone squirm.

“It’s a thing!” he defended himself.

“It takes balls to do that,” Will laughed hysterically. “I will admit that is not me.”

“It takes another dick to do that, bro,” Ben joined in on the laughter.

“What are you guys laughing at?”

“Pegging.”

You laughed as well, allowing yourself to get lost into the fun time and chugging the remnant of your drink, immediately pouring yourself a glass of wine. _So much for not over-drinking,_ you thought. But you needed it. The tension and the pressure were insanely high that night, and alcohol calmed you down.

Or it could’ve had the opposite effect and stir up some crazy emotions inside of you that you had been suppressing for two years.

Either way, you had to keep yourself in one piece somehow.

“Moving on from this _weirdo_ ,” Will announced, “Benny, you’re up.”

Ben rubbed his palms together, slightly breaking apart from you and excitedly staring at the whole group. The smile on his face was radiant, like a child entering a massive toy store for the first time.

“Alright, here I go. Never have I ever… proposed to anyone.”

There were frowns from everyone present, including yourself.

“No one here did,” Catherine pondered.

“Yeah, I didn’t – “

“Benny, what’s – “

Any smile you planned on flashing disappeared when you noticed Ben on his knee next to you. He revealed a beautiful ring in his hand, and he could not stop smiling at you. His eyes sparkled with the kind of excitement that he had whenever he won a fight, but stronger.

You were speechless and more so in absolute pain. Everything seemed to be falling all around you. You heard not Catherine’s “aww” or her excited squeal, not Pope’s fazed exclamations or Will’s approval. All you heard were your breaths, unsteady, and your heart racing crazily in your chest. Your eyes got teary, and you wished it was for the right reason.

“I thought I’d skip the cliché dinner at the restaurant and do this in a cozy environment,” Ben told you, his blue eyes glued onto your shocked figure. “You bring so much happiness in my life, Y/N, and I want that happiness for the rest of my life. I want this for as long as I’ve got on this good earth. Being in love with you is the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

 _Being in love with you is the best thing that could’ve happened to me,_ he told you, all the while your eyes went to Frankie, who remained expressionless, to your confusion.

You were running low on air. Soon, you began to shake and feel like you were in purgatory rather than hell. Hell would’ve been a kinder sentence.

“Will you marry me?” he finished.

You opened your mouth, eyes completely teary, and no sound escaped. Your throat closed, your body went numb and your limbs cold. It should’ve been the most wonderful thing that could’ve happened, and you wished Ben a lifetime of happiness.

But it was in that moment that you realized you could not possibly hide that secret for the rest of your life. Things would only get worse – if possible.

“I – I really wish you hadn’t done this with everyone else here,” you muttered, visibly flustered and surprised.

“We won’t peer pressure you, we promise!” Catherine said. “Just… you know, say yes!”

The waiting went on forever, and all you could think about was poor Benny and how terrible he must’ve felt.

Or how terrible he was about to feel.

“Benny, I… oh my God,” you all but cried. “I can’t do this. I – I can’t.”

If it was any quieter, you could’ve effortlessly heard everyone’s thoughts. You knew for a fact there were wide eyes staring at you in disbelief, disappointed and even shocked looks, but you temporarily shifted your attention strictly onto Ben. You cupped his cheeks and pulled him in, wishing it was just the two of you in that moment so you could explain everything and – hopefully – make him understand.

“It’s not fair to you,” you whispered to him, remarking his frown in an instant. “I can’t hurt you like this.”

“How – how would this hurt me? What are you talking about, baby?”

“I love you so much. And I’m so, so sorry.”

“Baby – “

“But I’m not… _in_ love… with _you_.”

Ben brought his forehead to meet yours, closing his eyes as if processing everything. You did the same, thus bidding an awfully painful goodbye to him, and stood up, apologized to the rest of the group, and walked out of the house.

“Y/N! Y/N, wait! Wait!”

You barely heard Ben anymore; the air was constricting, and finally, years due, you let out a good cry. You hid your face in your hands, screaming into them, with no one else to hear. Your mind wandered off to the pain that you just brought to Benny, the shock and confusion left to be rummaged by the others, and –

_Frankie._

The night started with doubts and fears cradled inside your chest, and now everything was going down under. You might as well went back in there and shout the real reason for the shameless way you broke your boyfriend’s heart.

“Y/N!”

Will’s voice spooked you; you sat again in a straight position, not even wiping off the tears from your cheeks as you found bits and pieces of dignity to look straight at him.

“What the hell happened back there?”

You knew damn well Will would choose to defend his little brother because let’s be frank, who wouldn’t? You were the monster in that scenario, the heartless one who broke his brother’s heart.

“I’m sorry, Will,” you shouted, hoping he wouldn’t come near you.

But he did. He wasn’t as angry as you thought he would be, but rather investigative. He wanted to hear the truth from your mouth, and you began to fear that he already suspected something in regards to the motive behind your gesture.

“I’m really sorry,” you cried out to him. “I love Benny, I swear I do! That’s why I can’t marry him.”

“Because you do love him? What the fuck are you talking about?”

You took a deep breath and cried some more against your best attempts to not break down more. Will hugged you immediately, stroking your head as you let it out. It was surprising that a man of his size and skills could be so devoted and sensitive towards both his family and friends.

“Who are you in love with then, Y/N?”

That question, which you dreaded for years, had finally surfaced and it did so biting, stinging harshly. You raised your head from his chest and looked at him upsettingly, your eyes begging him not to pursue the matter any further. But again, Will’s intuition was infallible, and of course he had picked up on your subtle signals.

“Will, please, don’t…”

“I just wanna know, Y/N. Cause I look at you and Benny and… I see you guys happy and in love and… we all thought this was it. This was it for you two, and now…”

He paused, huffing and examining your face again. “You said you weren’t _in_ love with _him_. It’s someone else.”

Your lips felt sawn together as you kept staring at Will, unable and unwilling to provide a response. Why cause any further heartbreak?

But you were in so much deep shit already, you might as well just confess the whole thing.

“I don’t wanna say it,” you said. “I really don’t wanna say it. If I do… the second it comes out… it’s gonna be real and… agonizing, more so than it is already.”

“Y/N – “

“What good is it gonna do, Will? The damage has been done.”

“I love you almost as much as I love Benny. And I think he just deserves a proper explanation for all of this. That’s all.”

When you again didn’t say anything, Will took it upon himself to draw the conclusions.

“I’m guessing it’s not Pope. Or Catherine,” he began, watching your reactions closely. “Otherwise Catherine would’ve acted a lot more territorial around you and she’s super chill whenever you’re around. Which leaves me and Frankie.”

Your eyes met his, filled with guilt and shame, and you held your breath, for once hoping that single action would cut the air out of your lungs and you’d be put out of your misery.

“And it’s… not me. Is it?”

You shook your head so quickly and vaguely noticeable that he could’ve missed it. But he didn’t. When realization hit, Will huffed, staring at you in a way which sent pity vibes. This time around, you actually wanted to speak up, and that’s when Frankie came out, frantically searching for Will.

“Pope and Cat are in there with Benny but you should probably – “

“Yeah.”

Will left, leaving you and Frankie alone on the sidewalk. He saw your cried out face, the way your hands were shaking slightly and the pure devastation on your face.

That secret was eating you alive, and it had just gotten to your core.

“What the hell was all that about?” he asked you.

“Don’t start too, _please_.”

“You love Ben, and he loves you. Why – “

“Because! There are other reasons, other things which influence a big decision like this one! Not everything is as simple as loving someone and being loved back!”

Frankie frowned, coming closer to you.

“Y/N, I don’t get it.”

“No, of course you don’t. You have the immense luxury of lacking the vital piece of information that I have, and trust me, you are much better off this way. You are much luckier than I am. Although… at the moment, it would seem I am below rock bottom.”

“What information are you talking about? Just – just tell me what it is, why you said you can’t marry Benny – “

“Frankie… don’t.”

“You’re a super reasonable person, I’m sure you have a solid reason for it.”

“For the love of – “

“Y/N. Come on. Between us, friends.”

His words made you lose any fraction of reality you might have been a part of, tearing you apart. You came closer to him, biting your lower lip and feeling your eyes swell up with tears again.

“What if I told you… that I know who the girl from that night is? The girl you… said you had the best night of your life with?”

He frowned, not understanding a thing of what was going on. “Y/N, don’t change the subject – “

“Just – answer me.”

“How would you even know who she is?”

Mouth agape, the words got stuck inside your throat, unwilling to come out. The way he was looking at you, with so much curiosity, pleading for you to simply open up to him, was much more devastating than you would’ve expected.

“Because you’re looking at her.”

Breathless, you watched his facial expression darken by the second, his mind clearly running at high speed in the attempt to verify the validity of your words. After a while, denial took over him, and he flashed a flustered smile at you, stepping further away from you.

“No. No way, no. No fucking way,” he laughed.

You shook your head and let tears run down your face again, which was nothing but a serious hint to Frankie that you were dead serious.

“No, no, no, no,” he began to panic. “ _No_ , no fucking way!”

“Frankie – “

“Why would you say something like that?! Why the fuck would you make up such a bullshit story?!”

_“Bullshit story?!”_

“You’re Benny’s girl, you’re – he loves you!”

“I know that!”

“Then why are you lying to me?!”

“I am not lying, you moron!”

Frankie ran his hands through his hair, nearly ripping it apart, and he began to pace on the sidewalk, the amount of fear and anxiety running through him feeling like a killer on the loose.

“Why would I lie about that?” you chased after him. “Who in their right mind would come up with such a thing?!”

“I don’t fucking know! You’re – you’re afraid of moving too fast with Benny and you’ve decided to use the one thing I don’t know about myself against me and – “

“I am _not_ afraid of anything like that and I am _not_ using this against you, so shut the fuck up!”

The idea that struck you was perhaps terrible, downright ridiculous and even more hurtful, but now that it was all out in the open, you had to convince Frankie of the truth.

“Kiss me.”

He stopped pacing, looking at you as if you just blurted out the most inappropriate suggestion ever known to mankind.

Which, in retrospect, it might have been.

“What?” he paced to you gradually, like stalking a prey.

“You said you only remember how warm she felt, how homey and comfortable she felt, so… kiss me.”

“I – no, I don’t wanna kiss you. You’re – you’re Benny’s – “

“I just turned down his proposal and told him that I am not in love with him, Frankie. Do you honestly believe there is a tomorrow for me and him?”

He remained silent, knowing it to be true.

“Kiss me,” you begged a third time.

You did not expect him to actually do it, frankly; you expected him to stand his ground and refuse you over and over, but he rushed to you and smashed his lips to yours, all the while having his hands on your back, steadily going upwards.

Just as you feared, the kiss brought back every single moment from that night you shared: the passion, the scorching hot tension, everything was still there, and you felt whole like you haven’t in a long time.

Frankie initiated the kiss, and he was the one who broke it, catching his breath and looking at you with disbelief. He couldn’t deny it anymore. You did tell the truth. And just like that, the foggy memory became clearer: the wonderful curls he tugged on were yours; your warmth and your taste were yours, and the remembrance of that feeling every time he was alone he now knew they all belonged to you.

And he belonged to you, too.

“It was you,” he muttered, somehow still unable to believe. “All this time, two years of my life trying to find the girl… and it was you.”

He got closer to you, biting his lower lip as he stared you down.

“For the past two years, I have been dating and fucking and trying to find that same feeling, same emotion, and I wasn’t able to find it. I thought it was a once in a lifetime thing and I should let it go. And I did. After like eight months, I gave up. I gave up on finding that girl that fucked me up in the most incredible way and made me fall madly in love with her. Do you have any idea how it feels now to know that it was you? That for two whole years, I craved and yearned and jacked off, unknowingly, to the thought of my best friend’s girlfriend?”

Everything he was saying was sprayed with an understandable anger, and every single word hung on to you as if glued. But it wasn’t about him and him alone.

“Don’t play the victim here, Frankie,” you muttered, anger nesting inside of you too. “You’re not the victim.”

“How the fuck not?”

“Neither one of us is. There’s only one victim here, and that’s Benny. This is all my fault and I acknowledge that, but you lived these two years carefree. I am the one who had to live with this. No one else. Me.”

“Why didn’t you say something after it happened? It would’ve been the easiest fucking thing.”

“It would, wouldn’t it? Except the fact that whenever I wanted to bring it up, you were busy with your many bimbos and then… I met Benny and Will, we started going out and… it was too late for a confession.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was. How the fuck was I supposed to tell him that I slept with one of his best friends? Even if it was before I knew him. How was I supposed to do that?”

Frankie offered no reply. He knew, deep down, that you were not entirely wrong, but he still felt like crap. All he wanted in that moment was to regain those lost couple of years and spend them with you, selfishly and unapologetically but again, he knew you were right.

“So much for game night,” he murmured, discernably still shaken.

“I’m pretty sure I just lost a boyfriend and some friends tonight.”

“I’m still here.”

“For how long, I wonder?”

“For… however long you want me to.”

You stared at him, fighting the urge to kiss him again until you ran out of breath. He was saying everything you hoped and dreamed he would in all of that agonizing time, and yet your mind had to be the bigger organ and take over the rationality part of yourself.

“We can’t kiss again,” you said, although your voice exposed that burning desire.

Frankie lingered, debating over his options. “I know,” was what he chose to respond with.

“I should… go home. I ruined the evening enough.”

“Tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Was it just physical? Since you could remember every single detail… was it just that? A one night stand?”

“Why would you feel the need to ask me such a ridiculous question, Frankie?”

“I – “

“I ruined game night, and… I broke your best friend’s heart because of something that happened two fucking years ago. Two years you’ve been living in my head, Frankie. Two whole years during which I tried like hell to not think about that night, about you and me and… everything that we did… and I felt like the worst piece of shit ruining Benny like that.”

“What did we do?”

The question was much more intricate than you would’ve ever let yourself believe. It was not sheer curiosity, nor innocent by any means. Your tipsiness was long gone by the time that question was dropped on you and you seriously contemplated whether you should answer or not. But then again, after everything that went down in the past hour, what point was there anymore to hide… anything, really?

As much as you felt like the trashiest human being on the face of the earth, looking at Frankie right then and there, feeling your heart skip several beats and your stomach filled with butterflies as you involuntarily reminisced that kiss from mere moments ago, you had to acknowledge the truth, regardless of how harsh it might have been.

You were madly in love with Frankie, and there was no one who could make you feel the way he did.

“It was… a long night,” you said, unsure if you should continue.

“That much I can tell. But I want to know exactly what we did.”

“Why? What good is it gonna do?”

He loomed you again, a dark expression in his eyes. “It might be useful someday.”

You gulped, quite amazed at the boldness of his statement, deciding for once that you had spent far too long trapped inside your own mind, a prisoner of your own needs and wishes and a slave to the fake way you were “supposed” to feel. You had forged almost everything for the sake of everyone else, not listening to yourself and your own wishes. You had done so since you were a kid, always putting others first and not acknowledging the fact that you were just as human as the rest of them and that you too deserved your own happy ending.

You had not been selfish.

You had been a damn _fool_.

“Even as incredibly drunk as you were, you managed to make me feel incredible,” you said, responding to his touch by running your hands down his torso. “You first went down on me, literally burying your face down there for… I don’t know how long. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours. You made me cum twice on your face, and then… I offered to blow you, but you refused. You said it was about me, not you. Which was something I have never heard from a man before, and it only made me want you more. Then it was all… an entanglement of… missionary, cowgirl, fingering, 69… it was a long night.”

Speechless, Frankie’s mouth remained ajar, feeling his blood boil in his veins at the mere thought of those scenes. If anything, he had been living in a lie just as much as you had.

He had been very happy for you and Ben ever since you had your first date, but at the same time, he always felt like there was some sort of unresolved pressure in between you two, sitting there ready to explode, much like he was. He too loved Ben and Will like his own brothers, but…

…for fuck’s sake.

Didn’t he deserve his happiness as well?

And if the story was really about you and him in the first place, what harm was really there to be done?

“Anyway,” you resumed, feeling your face and entire body flushed from the confession, “I should call a cab to get home.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

You stared at him, refraining a chuckle. “You should probably head back to your friend in there, whose world just came crashing down.”

“You’re my friend, too.”

This time you frowned. “A friend you’ve been unknowingly jacking off to for months.”

Frankie’s eyes widened at the sudden and outrageous commentary.

“I’ve done the same,” you shamelessly confessed, shocking him even more.

“You – what?”

You chuckled, lowering your head temporarily. “When you’re alone, your mind wanders. And mine wandered to the best night of my life.”

Frankie grabbed your hand and brought you to his chest, his warm breath on your neck, tickling your skin and your senses, seemingly awakening some very poor decision making skills.

“That was the best sex _you_ have ever had?” he questioned you.

You nodded, words failing to leave your lips. Frankie’s body burned him alive, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

He pulled you further in and kissed you deeply, cupping your cheeks as his tongue slid into your mouth, touching all the right spots. One of his hands traveled down your back, ever so carefully resting above your ass, enough to drive you crazy. As a result, you put your arms around his neck, tugging at his hair every once in a while and thus making Frankie moan into the kiss. The moment in itself was unbearably vexing, and as a result, an erection appeared, the premature result of a two years-long wait. He was pushing against you without his will or realization, and you fleetingly wished you weren’t in the middle of the sidewalk, outside your now ex-boyfriend’s house.

The kiss progressed within seconds, disclosing a raging desire and emanating an insane amount of lust and love alike; Frankie’s hands were eagerly traveling up from your waist down to your thighs, teasing them. The gentle tugging you applied to his hair drove him wild, and he only broke the kiss to search desperately for a cab.

“Frankie – “

“If we don’t find a cab now to get you home, I might just explode.”

You could easily read eagerness and excitement alike on his face. You did your fair share of waiting, and so did he, and swiftly, as easy as that, nothing else seemed to matter. Everything either one of you had done over the past couple of years had led you to that specific moment, and it was about damn time you both took what you wanted.

If humans were selfish by nature, then so be it.

It was not just physical, for neither one of you.

You had no real recollection of the drive back to your place. Time seemed to be moving too fast for you to keep up with it.

In a heartbeat, you removed all of your clothes, and so did Frankie. You were writhing and beneath him, allowing him to take full control. His hunger was insatiable, his desires naughty and nearly reckless; he took his sweet time to admire you in all of your glory, pressing fugitive kisses all over your skin, from your knees to your neck, cheeks and mouth, smiling whenever a moan bolted your lips. You cupped both his cheeks, kissing him as madly as you knew how to, to which Frankie could only respond with a very low grunt and sigh of relief simultaneously. His good and kind side were yelling at him relentlessly to consider what he was about to do with his best friend’s girl – former? – and how he must’ve been still at his house, disappointed and broken while he was going to town with you.

But even with that knowledge in mind, he knew he was yours and you were his as much as he knew that 2+2 = 4. Frankie smirked into the kiss, dropping his weight onto you, sliding over to your side to trap your arm under him. He slithered his hand under your neck, grabbing your other and intertwined your fingers with his. All the while, his lips hadn’t left yours for one moment, his mouth taking its precious time to swallow every breath, absorb every sound and movement that you made. This time he was sober and fully aware of his surrounding and desires, and if you thought that your one night stand was the best you’ve ever had, you were in for a treat.

Frankie kissed your neck all the way down to your collarbones, nibbling at your delicate skin. Your back arched naturally, his tongue moving in tantalizing motions against your pulse. Your hand fought his for dominance, but his hold was fierce and unbinding.

You quickly remarked the dark glow of his eyes, how consumed by desire they were, and you fully realized, for the first time since you knew him, that this was where you were supposed to be: with him, fully his and yours, respectively. Frankie held down your shaking leg as he dipped his mouth onto your pussy, keeping your legs spread for him. His fingers made circling, secure motions around your clit, as did his tongue. Your hips were throbbing already, moving against his face and hand, needy and desperate, shameless. The heat in your stomach was building with each licking motion of his tongue, sinful and great, just as you remembered, and your heartbeat pounded in your chest and ears alike. Frankie’s index and middle finger worked against your clit harder, moving faster, needing you to reach your high just as he commanded.

“F-Fuck – Frankie – F-Frankie, I’m –

“I know, baby.”

He sucked you dry, and the moan you let out was simply lurid. The orgasm was blinding, gut-wrenching and oh, how you missed that feeling. It felt like you haven’t even had intercourse with anyone ever before until he came along – in all the ways. Your body crashed and shivered under his touch, and you pushed your hips forward to meet his face more, smearing him with your juices. When his tongue ceased its motions against your wet folds, he peppered kisses inside your thighs, soft and small. He pushed his hands up your body, fingertips toying with your breasts in the meantime, earning more moans from you. Your hands rushed to grab his wrists and your lungs felt air deprived in all of that teasing.

But Frankie didn’t surrender to anything. Too long he had been starving, wondering and feeling lost. It was a side of him that you hadn’t really thought existed. He was commanding and determined, dark and greedy.

And fucking hell if you didn’t love it.

Frankie reached over and took your thigh into his tight grip, pulling you over him so that you were straddling his lap, your forearms perched anxiously on his shoulders. Frankie’s hold over your hips was firm and secure. There was no escape. Not that you wished for one.

“Ready to take me in?” he cooed.

You nodded, finding that words fled out of your mind completely. You exhaled with a shudder, and Frankie pulled you down onto his cock, painfully hard, throbbing for what felt like an eternity. He pushed you down fully onto him, and all of your overstimulated nerves fired up rapidly.

Frankie let out a tortured moan, but his grip remained firm and certain. He rolled your hips so that you rubbed against him in the most exquisite way. You felt every single thing: the wait, the lingering tension, the pain and desire, the heartbreak, all of it. You felt how controlling he was forcing himself to be, and you also felt your weakness as he made you grind against him.

“F-Frankie – come on, please – “

Body shaking just from him entering you, you let his hands push you down onto his erection so hard that you carved your nails into his neck and back for support.

“F-Fuck – “was all you could let out.

“I got you baby, I got you.”

He bit your earlobe teasingly, but the reality was that he was truly close to bursting. He continued to place kisses on your collarbones and breasts, nuzzling in between them as his hands continuously drove your hips up and down, riding his cock mercilessly.

Your face contorted in pleasure, aching it and needing it as your body began to feel on edge again. Faster than before though, and under his expert and merciless touch, you bounced at his free will, granting his – and your – filthy wish, no questions asked. Your core tightened and the muscles in your belly burned with an ecstasy you haven’t felt since – well, him. You were moaning uncontrollably, fingers digging into his shoulders in a demonic plea for him to let you finish.

“Please F-Frankie – oh m-my fucking G-God – “

Crying out for your sweet release, your body was busy taking in Frankie as he pushed himself onto you, his cock twitching against your spot, burying himself inside of you. You felt his muscles tense under your touch and you figured he wouldn’t last long either. Your eyes shot into Frankie’s loving and consuming stare, his breath slow and measured in spite of his contradictory moves. His embrace soothed you, brought you home right where you wanted and needed to be. Rough and passionate alike, Frankie wanted you to know that you drove him just as mad as he did you, and that nothing that had transpired in those two years matter anymore. His lips wanted you to understand that you were everything he had desperately looked for, and as you convulsed beneath him, Frankie wanted you to have it all.

Pulling his lips away from your jaw, he searched for your eyes again, begging for you to listen to him and feel him through your neediness.

“If you want it s-so bad – “he muttered, “take it.”

His hips stuttered almost as you clenched around him, your climax rushing up on you at last.

“I’m yours, Y/N,” he said. “It’s all yours – I’m – yours.”

You rocked your head back, the position making Frankie completely bottom out inside you. You shuddered, hovering in the slightest, and clenched around his cock so hard that you got Frankie grunting out loud. You kept bouncing up and down, hunting that almost forgotten euphoria and your nails scratching down his biceps as you climaxed on him. Waves of pleasure were washing over you just as they did over him, your body beginning to shake with each hip movement. You held onto his shoulders for support, digging into his flesh just as harshly, and you could feel him tightening around you too. You both chased the high: you needed it like you needed air for survival, it seemed, screaming for the orgasm you were both denied since that fucking one night stand. He thrust deep into you, breaking you apart, and you rode him through your and his high, making sure you both were left satisfied physically if nothing else. His hold over your hips tightened, and his face contorted with ecstasy as he came into you, spilling his seed through you and all over your entrance, without any shame or any other thought residing in his mind.

Frankie’s body arched off of the bed, his head tipping back as he shouted out his release, loud and proud. Lurching forward, he wrapped his arms around your, holding you close to him as he quivered under the immense pressure of his climax and your touch. You held him against your breasts and tried to calm him down the second you reckoned he was down from his orgasm. Frankie was shaking beneath you, feeling your walls clench around his cock, and you giggled when he whimpered. He sunk his mouth onto your breasts in retaliation.

The treatment didn’t last long; Frankie rolled over and dragged you along with him, pressing light kisses all over your forehead, nose, cheeks and mouth, in the sweetest manner possible, as if he wasn’t humping you desperately less than a minute ago.

“You’re truly a wonder,” you jokingly said.

“You thought I was done?”

You shot him a twisted look, but gained only a smirk in return. “The night is still young, baby.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and Benny finally talk things out, which leads him to make a crucial decision about his friendship with both you and Frankie.

When the morning came, your guilt and shame returned.

As much as you would’ve loved to pretend you had found paradise and that you had moved there full time, reality kicked in and there was still a huge mess to be cleaned.

Your mind circled back to Ben, an agonizing mental image forming instantly of his confused and pained reactions upon your departure. You checked your phone and, as you expected, missed calls and messages from him, all desperate and confused. It wasn’t evident whether Will had told him about anything from last night, but you figured that would soon come up one way or the other. After all, you did simply ditch game night and shortly after, Frankie disappeared as well.

And Ben was smart as hell. He was very witty. No way he wouldn’t be able to piece one and one together. Worse, what if he solved the puzzle already and was simply in denial? Refusing what was truly happening behind closed doors? Or what if he was only waiting for the right moment to confront you or Frankie – or both? Honestly, either way it did not sound like a showdown anyone would’ve enjoyed.

And Frankie was of no help, either. You knew him too well to not suspect that he was also battling internalized guilt. But he hid it so well, so _immorally_ well, it was as if there were no suspicions to begin with.

He joined you in the shower, and of course that turned out to be a long make-out and blow-out session. His every sound was indeed the original sin; his husky grunts, the tight grip on your hair, the way his mouth searched for yours almost too hungrily to be real, even the way he clearly controlled his motions so as to not hurt you in any way… it was mesmerizing in the best and worst possible way.

Nonetheless, you couldn’t leave things unresolved. Ben was someone you had dedicated almost two years of your life to, and someone for whom you had genuine feelings for. And you couldn’t live with yourself if you wouldn’t at least explain to him everything.

“We have to tell Benny,” you said, finishing your coffee.

Frankie sighed, rubbing his forehead. He knew, without doubt, that you were right. You were the voice of reason in the group, so naturally you knew what was best to do in almost any given situation.

“I – I just – I don’t know how… how am I supposed to go back out there and tell him, my best friend, ‘Hey Benny! Guess what happened on the night your life fell apart?’”

You gave him a judging look. “We’re not gonna say anything like that.”

“I really wish I could’ve stopped time and be stuck in last night.”

Frankie wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in to his chest. He planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, causing you to close your eyes. Flashbacks of last night hit you like a tidal wave, making you shiver with excitement all over again, remnants of his touches all over your body burning you from inside out.

You sighed, opening your eyes again, back into the harsh reality.

“I really wish we could’ve stayed stuck in last night,” he repeated, his forehead on yours.

“Me too.”

“When neither of us was selfish, when nothing hurt… when it was just two people loving each other.”

The embrace tightened, and that was your queue to break it.

On the other side of the spectrum, Ben felt _empty_. He wracked his brain the whole night trying to unveil any potential reason for why you left in such a rush. Will and Santiago spent the night awake as well, by his side, pathetically attempting to comfort him, but nothing seemed to help. Ben was a man of actions rather than words. Maybe it was a work flaw, maybe it was simply something characteristic to his persona; either way, he needed answers. Palpable, undeniable answers. When his calls and texts to you failed to give him that, he grabbed the keys to his car and chased out the house, sleep deprived and in the teensiest hungover.

“Ben, what’re you doing?” Will shouted, running after him.

“Going to Y/N.”

“Bad idea, man! Don’t do that!” Santiago added.

“I can’t just sit here and pick my brain trying to figure out how it all went to shit! I need – I need to know! I need to know what I did wrong, what – what I could’ve done better, what – “

“That’s not gonna help you, Benny!”

“How the fuck do you know??”

Ben grabbed Will’s collar, furiously pulling him closer to him, teeth clenched in white hot rage like neither Will nor Santiago had ever witnessed. Ben was, despite his job and shortcomings, a very sensitive and caring man. And for him to reach that boiling point, it meant he was hurt in ways he never thought of.

“Just trust me, okay?” Will insisted, forcefully removing himself from the grip. “Trust me, as your brother.”

Ben ran his hands through his hair, struggling to take breaths, his fingers shaky on the few locks. “I need to know, Will,” was all he could mutter.

“I know you do, but… I don’t think you should.”

Ben stared at him, eyes tearing up against his desire. In spite of that, he couldn’t catch onto whatever it was that his brother was trying to let him know.

But Santiago did.

“Do you know something?” he asked Will.

Will rummaged, debating whether he should or should not come forward with what he knew. It could’ve solved everything, but on the other hand, it could have done much more damage than it already did.

Even he had troubles understanding that night as he laid awake next to his brother, going over the events of the evening over and over. Ultimately, he realized that the story, the full story and its subsequent epilogues, were not about Ben and you, not even about the rest of the group.

It was about you and Frankie.

It had always been about you and Frankie.

“Not now, Pope,” he cooed, eyes staring him down, hoping to whatever God that he would drop it.

But of course he didn’t.

“Will.”

“Wait, you _do_ know something?” Ben asked.

“It’s not my place to say, dude. Let it go.”

“Let it go?! You’re talking about the woman I wanted to marry, the woman I wanted to spend the rest of life with! If you know something – you better start to fucking talk.”

“Benny – this won’t do any good to you. Why can’t you just trust me on this one?”

“Because I fucking love this woman! Because I want to know what I can do to get her back, to do better – “

“There’s nothing you can do to fix it, okay?! She’s – “

Will bit his lower lip so badly, little strings of blood came pouring out. He swallowed them, just like he had to swallow his pride at that moment, forget everything and jump to his brother’s rescue.

“She’s… in love with Frankie. All this time… it was Frankie.”

A second later, Ben’s world came crashing down around him, somehow more so than before. And minutes later, his mind started going back to all of the times the group hung out together, placing emphasis on you and Frankie and involuntarily opened his mouth, the comprehension hitting him like a sledgehammer at the back of his head.

The simplest things made so much more sense: the tight way you always hugged him, the radiant and shiny smile on both your faces when your eyes met across the room, how hard he made you laugh without even trying, and how he seemed to be able to comfort you in ways that not even he could.

And by the end of all those flashbacks, Ben couldn’t even be mad. Frankie was his best friend, but the more he thought about it, the more he really understood the bigger picture.

“She’s always been in love… with Frankie,” he repeated in a trance, barely making anything of his surroundings.

“Hang on. Y/N left in a rush last night, and… so did Frankie,” Santiago interfered. “You don’t think…?”

Pause. The three men thought it through, and Ben’s eyes widened, his mouth opening as if to let out an irrational scream, but nothing materialized.

“Alright. If you’re not gonna say it, I will,” Santiago said. “I’m gonna kill Frankie.”

Ben caught his arm in a taut grip, causing Santiago to furrow his brows at him. “No, you’re not. _I_ am gonna kill Frankie.”

Eyes seemingly spewing a fiery, blind rage, Ben got in the car, with Santiago and Will in the backseat; as much as Will attempted to be the voice of reason and calm his little brother down in the slightest, no attempt succeeded. Ben’s mind was laced with hundreds of thoughts, all of you and Frankie. He did not even try to hide how betrayed he felt. He had spent hours on end last night trying to figure out where it all went wrong and what he could have done better to improve your relationship, when truth of the matter was, the core problem were the two of you. What was worse was imagining the two of you leaving game night together, selfishly colliding your bodies together, sweat dripping from your heated bodies while his world came crashing down.

Once he finally reached your apartment, he took a deep breath as he normally would before a big fight, his boxing instincts kicking in. In that sole moment, he knew no fear, no shame, only betrayal.

“Benny. Benny, _stop_ , look at me,” Will tried one last time, forcing his hands onto his chest. “Look at me! Don’t do this.”

Ben frowned. “Whose fucking side are you on??”

“Yours, you fuckin’ idiot! And hers. I love you both.”

He huffed, feeling incredibly irritated and on the edge.

“Yeahhhh, no. I’m kicking some ass today. And ain’t no way in hell it’s gonna be hers.”

“Benny… talk to her first. If Frankie is in there or not, just… talk to her first. You’ve been together for nearly two years. And she – she loves you, too.”

“Oh, bullshit – “

“She does! It’s just – different. It’s in a different way. But just talk to her before you do some stupid shit that you’re definitely gonna regret.”

When words failed Ben and he thoughts started to race wildly inside his mind, Will moved closer to him, grabbing his shoulders gently and making his little brother attentive.

“They’re both your friends, Benny,” he muttered. “Don’t forget that.”

Grunting, Ben took a deep breath, rolling his knuckles into a fist as he knocked on the door. Not a moment later, you appeared in the doorframe, face effortlessly exposing your surprise at his sight. Before either one of you could open their mouths to mutter any words, Frankie’s guilty and surprised expression gained Ben’s attention. His eyes shot right at him, dismissing your presence altogether. He saw red again, his feelings and insecurities biting harshly at his insides, and he couldn’t help it. He clenched his teeth, struggling against his impulses to do, as Will had stated, something he would’ve regretted it, but it was no easy task.

Unfortunately for him, you were more than acquainted with his mannerisms, and you noticed much too rapidly that he was about to use his right hook for a definitive punch that would’ve undoubtedly knocked Frankie out: he was clenching his right fist, knuckles turning white, and his entire arm seemed to be in a spasm because of the lack of physical control.

“Benny,” you begged, standing now between him and Frankie. “Come talk to me.”

“Y/N – _move_.”

“Come inside and talk to me. _Now_.”

He looked at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. Everyone present could tell that he was beyond hurt and they all knew that violence, using his army and boxing training was his weapon of choice, something that he had complete control over, but you were strongly against that, especially in that situation. And Ben had the softest spot for you. From the first day he met you, he couldn’t say no to you. He couldn’t escape you.

That excruciating moment, haunting as you waited for a reaction or an answer, took forever. It felt as if you hadn’t seen him in years, but when he lowered his head, much like a puppy, and shyly letting you grab his hand into yours and guiding him back inside, you smiled to yourself.

The love you had for him, and vice versa, was still intact.

It was still there.

Nonetheless, the comfort could not dismiss the awkwardness residing in between you two as you sat on the couch, neither facing the other. Words got stuck in your trachea, finding that it was harder to explain yourself or your actions than you had originally thought.

“How was last night?”

Ben’s question was cruel, harsh, cutting deep through your conscience and tugging at your guilt, dragging it down along with your shame. He hadn’t meant it politely or friendly. He _wanted_ it to sting.

“Will you listen to what I have to tell you?” you breathlessly asked him. “Please.”

“You can say you fucked him, it’s not – it’s not that complicated. It’s pretty fuckin’ obvious anyway.”

That time you got angry. Angry at your impulses, at your way of handling things, at how you ran away in fear and in pain, at how ridiculously easy it had been to kiss Frankie, to surrender to him and his involuntary charms, how you still cared about Ben and your relationship, and it was all too much to take in at once.

“Please… just listen to me,” you repeated, teeth clenched.

Ben shrugged and turned to you. His eyes suddenly seemed to have turned grey, emptied of all the goodness that he typically had. He was exhausted, that was certain, but he seemed genuinely _broken_.

And that, in return, broke you.

“You remember when we met, almost two years ago,” you started. “Frankie introduced me to you and Will.”

Ben could only nod shortly, the mentioned name making him flinch to a certain degree that he loathed. He _loathed_ feeling that way about one of his best friends.

“This is gonna hurt,” you warned him.

“What’s a bit more pain?”

“Benny – “

“Just say it, Y/N, and get it over with.”

You huffed, trying to put some order in the chaotic timeline of your thoughts.

“A few months before I met you and Will… I went out with Frankie and Santiago. It was Santi’s birthday, and… we went to a club. There were many drinks, they got absolutely obliterated… and suddenly, I – I know I was dancing with Frankie. It was just me and him, dancing closely… and then he kissed me. He kissed me like it was the first kiss in the world, like it was the only thing he could’ve done, and… I kissed him back. By that point, we’ve been friends for around three years, and… I can’t really explain it. But there’s always been some… undisclosed, weird connection between us. The timing was never right, though – “

“What happened after he kissed you?”

You locked eyes with Ben, apologetically staring at him. You could tell he already figured out the rest of the story. There was almost no need for you to give it any sort of further validation, but somehow you thought that he expected it. He expected and needed to hear it all out oud; more so, he _deserved_ it.

“I kissed him back. The dancing stopped. I was only tipsy, so I was… much more awake than he was. We ended up at his place. And – “

“You’re the girl.”

Ben’s tone was dark, seasoned with a dumbfounding understanding of the entire situation. It all made sense at last.

“You’re… _the_ girl,” he repeated. “The woman he’s been desperately asking around for, the one he’s been looking for.”

“As drunk as he was, he didn’t remember anything the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. I snuck out before he could fully wake up. And I tried to tell him. But a week after, he left for a couple of months, saying he had some business – which I didn’t question, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know – then he returned, he started hanging out with someone – “

“Then you met us.”

You nodded. “When I met you, I – “

You stopped, a big smile infiltrating your face. The memory of meeting Ben and Will was, in spite of everything, fresh in your head, as lovely as it had been to live it. You fondly remembered the attraction you felt towards Ben, how he managed to make you forget about the endless torment that was going on inside of you, and how happy he made you feel from your first date onwards. He made you laugh, he was kind and playful and protective, and whenever you were with him, he was all you could think about and all you could want.

Whenever you were alone, though… that’s when the problems arose.

“It was a crush on first sight,” you told him sincerely, noticing the vague flushness of his cheeks. “And when I heard that you were a boxer… well. That pretty much sold me on it. You were a catch.”

“That’s… half the reason I do this.”

Eased to see that the uncomfortable tension was evaporating and that he was positively responding to your flattery and comical remarks, you moved closer to him and took both his hands into yours, indirectly begging him to simply be there with you and understand you completely.

“I do love you, Benny. I swear I do. I love you so damn much. You’ve been an amazing boyfriend. You’ve done everything perfectly.”

“Not everything.”

You furrowed your brows and waited.

“I’m not Frankie.”

“You’re you. And that’s a wonderful thing.”

Ben turned to you, curiously inspecting your face. “You’ve kept this a secret for two whole years? Everything you felt… you didn’t tell anyone?”

You shook your head.

“Why?”

“Frankie had a new girl when he came back, Santiago then met Catherine, and it would’ve been so selfish and conceited of me to ruin any of those relationships by admitting what happened. And then I met you and… I wanted to be with you, completely. I never lied about anything that I feel for you, Benny. Never. It was all sincere.”

“It must’ve… been torture. Keep that all to yourself, alone…”

Ben’s mumbles were getting more incoherent by the second, and you realized he had reached a breaking point. His anger melted, just like he did under your touch. Only then did he understood what the real story was.

“I’m really so sorry, Benny.”

You cupped his cheeks, drawing his face closer to yours. His warmth was contagious, practically addicting, and it was bittersweet to feel it for what was surely the last time.

He unexpectedly kissed you, tenderly and slowly just like he did on your first date, bringing back all of the good reminiscences you’ve shared. You gave into the kiss, melting, nearly falling apart altogether. His usually bruised and worked up hands were on either sides of your face, keeping you as close as possible to him. When the kiss ceased to exist, he seemingly stopped breathing, as if that would’ve somehow contained your essence in his life.

“I wish you would’ve told me this sooner,” he murmured.

“I know…”

“Last night would’ve been good. It might’ve given me the chance to at least sleep with you one last time.”

You involuntarily chuckled, breaking your frown, and Ben did the same. Your forehead on his, confession slipped out at last, you knew that was the end of your relationship. The numb feeling was set in your bones, weakening you both. But it was, you both hoped, not the end to your friendship.

“I’ll need some time,” he said, standing up from the couch with a difficulty he failed to experience even after his roughest match. “To… digest this and – “

“Of course.”

You walked him to the front door, arm linked to his, which again you pleasantly noticed he allowed you to do so. When you opened the door, you were met with the curious faces of Santiago, Will and Frankie, all three staring at you, waiting for a verdict. You fleetingly remarked that Will was standing, cross-armed, between Santiago and Frankie and you weren’t sure if it was a coincidence or if something else transpired between them, but honestly you refused to think any more of it. The day had just begun, and you were already mentally and emotionally exhausted.

“Let’s go home,” Ben addressed Will. “We’re done here.”

“What happened?” Santiago asked.

“Ben, hey – “

At the sound of Frankie’s voice, something inside of Ben snapped again. He wanted to dive right in and kick and punch, but focusing on the conversation he just shared with you, paired with the understanding of what was truly going and the fact that he was, after all, a background character in your and Frankie’s journey, made him steady.

Instead, he shot Frankie a cold and pained gaze, approaching him whilst Santiago and Will stood nearby, carefully observing.

“I’ll need some time away from all of this,” he told Frankie.

“Yeah, I – obviously. Perfectly understandable.”

“I get it now. You and Y/N… it was always you and her.”

Frankie said nothing, eyes revealing the kind of shame that ran deep within.

“And I’ll always love her,” Ben continued. “She’ll always be one of my closest friends. But I don’t think I can say the same about you.”

“What?”

Frankie’s question was simultaneous with yours and the reactions of Will and Santiago. You rushed to Ben, pleading for him to look at you, but he paid you no attention. He was solely focused on Frankie, looking at him blankly.

“Ben, what are you talking about?” you asked him.

Desperation had taken control over you, and it seemed it did the same for Frankie, who could only stare at Ben, visibly shook.

“I don’t think I can be your friend, man,” Ben continued. “Not anymore. Or at least not right now.”

“Ben, come on – “

“Ben, you can’t be serious – “

“I am. You messed with my girl. Last night, she was still my girl. And you fucked her. I bet you did it without even once thinking about your best friend, didn’t you?”

Frankie opened his mouth to justify himself or his actions, but there was no defensio. There was nothing coming out. He was too shocked to speak.

“Benny, you – you don’t have to – “you began.

“I _want_ to,” he corrected you without a single glance thrown at you. “I want to do this. My best friend screwed me over. We’re done here.”

Ben walked to the car, Will chasing after him whilst you remained in the driveway, mouth agape at the awful realization.

A night’s worth of pleasure ruined one of the strongest friendships you’ve ever seen.

Never in your life have you felt more like a monster.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you’ve made a decision following the split of the group, but saying goodbye is harder than you would’ve thought. Especially saying goodbye to Frankie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst & SMUT (angsty/angry sex, wall sex if that’s a thing, doggy style, cunnilingus, you’re both super emotional and pissed off and you’re all over the place, literally)

Time was a cruel mistress and a painful reminder often times.

And this was one of those times.

You were nearly dying to talk to Benny, to see how he was doing, but you were afraid. You wanted to respect his wish of taking however time he needed to heal, yet you wanted nothing more but to help him personally, to be there for him. You knew you couldn’t, though; you were the one responsible for the pain he was going through.

Instead, you spoke to Will occasionally and got updates from him. Ben seemed to be focusing exclusively on his fights. He trained harder and longer than before, practically exhausting himself, but, according to Will, there was nothing anyone could’ve said or done that would have changed Benny’s mind. And you could’ve dealt with that if Frankie was there, but he was not.

Ever since Benny broke the friendship with him, less than a month ago, Frankie had been mostly MIA. He apparently returned to the gym during the day and spent his evenings bar hoping with Santiago. Which left you all alone in the equation. You couldn’t hold it against him or judge him in any way. He had lost one of his best friends because of you, and you knew it was something to mourn. Both he and Benny needed time.

But time seemed to be making things worse somehow.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that the only reason both Frankie and Ben were suffering was you. It all started with you, and it needed to end with you.

First, against Will’s requests, you went to Ben’s gym, heart completely sunk in your stomach, shrunk to the size of a walnut. You patiently waited in the locker, gladly seeing you still benefited from your name and reputation as Ben’s girlfriend – though no one there seemed to realize you were his _former_ now. You let out a soft gasp when he made his entrance, shirtless, sweaty and, worst of all, exhausted.

Exhausted didn’t really seem to cover how he looked. He had dark circles under his eyes, eyes which lost their sparkle and ocean-like charm, being replaced with an ashy expression and color; he somehow looked skinnier, though still very fit, and his skin was covered with bruises and cuts. Usually after a match, you would help him clean his wounds, but it seemed that, in your absence, Ben was wearing all of those marks as a badge of honor of some sort.

“Hey,” you shyly greeted him.

Ben froze, staring at you expressionless. “Hi. What – what are you doing here?”

Perhaps it was not the case, but everything in his voice suggested he did not want to talk to you or see you even. You had to remind yourself that the visit was cordial and short, and it would be over soon.

“I’m not staying long, I just… wanted to say goodbye. It felt impersonal to ask Will or Pope to tell you this.”

You gulped, awaiting his reaction, which did not fail to show up. Ben’s face dropped, approaching you with small steps, unsure of his own actions.

“Goodbye?”

“Yeah, I, uh… I’m gonna be gone. For a while. Uh – “

“Gone where? What are you – “

“I’m gonna do some traveling. I’ve always wanted to see more of Europe, so… Italy, France, Germany… all the big ones.”

You fought to reveal a polite smile, but you could feel yourself falling apart with each word that rolled from your tongue, nearly begging your mind to not let your eyes get teary under any circumstance.

“Why now?” Ben asked, removing his gloves.

“Because… I feel like I caused enough damage. I’ve fucked up everything and… I cannot stand the idea that I ruined your friendship with Frankie. So… I think it would be best if I just – “

“What are you gonna do after you come back?”

You faltered. You had a vague idea in your mind, but blurting out to Ben while he was in a very vulnerable and sensitive state of mind would not have been kind or respectable.

“I’ll – figure something out,” you got out of you, knowing full well that was not the truth.

Ben came even closer to you, frowning, his lips trembling in the slightest. “Are you gonna come back?”

_Ah, Ben. Benny, the ever witty and sharp man._

“It’s only for a few months,” you intended to reassure him. “We could all use a breather, and – “

“You can’t leave, Y/N.”

It triggered you and the emotional spot you had for Ben, especially lately. He struck a chord, and he knew that fairly well.

“This is your home, your friends and family are here – “

“I didn’t say that I’m leaving for good.”

“You didn’t have to! I _know_ you, Y/N! I know every part of you, inside out, and you – you’re not gonna come back, are you?”

You failed to reply. You refused to.

_“Are you?!”_

“I don’t know, Ben! I – I don’t know! All I know… is that I can’t stand the thought of hurting you and Frankie this much. I can’t be the reason I end a friendship. I’m not a wrecker.”

“I thought you and Frankie were in pure bliss.”

You remained silent again, fighting off the multitude of tears accumulated in your eyes. You did not want to make a scene and start sobbing in front of Ben, but it was getting increasingly harder.

“We haven’t – I haven’t really seen him this past month,” you managed to get out.

Ben frowned, trying to make sense of what you were saying.

“The point is, I’m… doing some traveling, then… I’ll come back,” you said, words nearly getting caught in your trachea. “And in the meantime… I’m hoping you and Frankie can patch things up.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long will you be gone for?”

“A few months.”

“Do the rest of the guys know? Catherine?”

“I wanted to talk to you first.”

He frowned again, but remembered that the two of you had shared an exquisite intimacy for nearly two years, authentic and passionate, and of course you would choose him first.

Or in this scenario, at least.

But then again, you also chose to be with him and be happy with him, even if deep down your heart demanded someone else entirely.

 _She sacrificed too many things already, even if it hurt her,_ Ben thought with a huge ache in his body. _She did everything there was to do for me and for everyone else at her own expense._

“You can’t go just because I need some time away from Frankie,” he told you, hands on his hips.

“Your friendship is more important than – “

“What about you, Y/N? You’ve put yourself through hell for my sake, for Frankie and Will’s sake, for all of us, time and time again, without considering what you need. What you want.”

“I took what I wanted, Benny! I ran out on you, walked out of your house… and slept with your best friend!”

Your anger showed through a string of hot tears down your cheeks which you whipped immediately, frustrated.

“I took what I wanted, _one time_ , and look what happened,” you continued, voice dark. “It ruined… everything. We never hang out anymore, all of us, because of me.”

“It’s not – “

“It is. And if there’s someone you should be mad at and demand to never see them again, it’s me. Not Frankie.”

“He broke the bro code. It’s a huge deal, you know how it is with us guys.”

“I know. But I also know that I am the one who hurt you, constantly. From the moment I chose to hide this from you, to the times I was all alone and thinking about him, and to right now, when I slept with him, when I was the one who remembered that drunken one night stand.”

You took a deep breath, acknowledging at last something that you hadn’t really thought of until then, and it was more demoralizing than you actually believed.

“I said I was in love with Frankie. But he never said anything of the sort.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“All he knew from that night was that it was the best sex he’s ever had. He only remembered the physical part. That’s what he craved for. Even after I told him it was me, not once did he say anything which might lead me to believe he has actual feelings for me. And he’s been more or less hiding from me for a month now. So. One can only assume things at this point.”

Standing much too close to Ben’s glistening skin, all too familiar and downright appetite-inducing in that weak moment of yours, Ben could only look down at you with something furious in his eyes, but not entirely.

“If you’re telling me we all went through this hell and that crackhead doesn’t feel the same way about you – how the fuck can he not?”

You pursed your lips, trying not to say anything silly, but it was on your mind anyway.

One of the many things you always adored about Ben was his ability to be straightforward. What he wanted for, he went for. He voiced his thoughts and made sure he was well understood right from the start. You always knew where you stood with him.

That was not the case with Frankie.

And that was precisely the moment when you began to wonder if everything you’ve thought of and wanted in the past two years was actually real anymore.

“Who wouldn’t be all over you, Y/N?” Ben tried to pass it as a joke, but the more he stared at you, eyes locked on your lips, the more he realized his feelings had returned, full-speed, feeding from the rational side of the brain.

His hunger kicked in instead, urging him to, once again, go after what he wanted.

“Please,” you puffed.

“Name me someone who doesn’t think this way about you.”

“Will? You know him, your _brother_.”

“When we first met you, he told me to hurry up and ask you out because if I wouldn’t, he would.”

“I… you’re fucking with me.”

“You know damn well I’m not, honey.”

“Uh – Pope.”

“Pope said you’re one of the finest women he’d ever seen.”

“You know what, that’s not the – the point,” you mumbled, losing the string of your thoughts. “The point is… he had entirely different expectations and fantasies about that night than I did, and… it’s another reason why we could all use a break.”

Ben was getting ahead of himself. He always did so, ever since he met you. The power you held over him was simply dumbfounding; every move you did was stuck onto him, every word you said, he hung onto it as if it were his life vest. You were a habit hard to break, and now, more than ever before, he felt the burdening need to let you know exactly that.

“How long are you gonna be gone for?” he asked.

“I told you – “

“I need an exact number.”

You huffed, scratching your forehead. “Three months.”

“Three months. Okay. You go do your travel, see Europe, eat delicious food, make memories, take a breather… and when you’ll come back, we’ll be right here.”

You wanted to correct him. You wanted to tell him that you had packed everything you had in your apartment and that you were good to go, but your heart did not allow for words to come out of your mouth. They stung and felt like a foreign body against your tongue and on your mind, and you let them slide.

“And if that stupid ass of Frankie does not realize precisely the kind of gem you are… the kind of person, woman, you are… you let me know.”

“There’s no need for all of that macho, boxing shit, Benny – “

He moved so close to you, like he used to when he needed you the most, grabbed your wrists and hold them gently into his hands, admiring them. For what, you did not know. And neither did him.

“You tell me right away if he does not love you every single day of his life, because I know I will. And I will do it with the very first chance that I got. I won’t hesitate.”

It nearly physically hurt when he leaned down to press a kiss on your forehead, his thumb caressing one of your cheeks as he watched you intently. It was the same look he had when he was reassuring you before his matches, and you knew he meant it.

There was melancholy in his eyes and the stiffness of his body. He was aching, longing, but he did not act upon it. Instead, he cleared his throat and patted your shoulder right as you walked away from him, faster than you would’ve normally wanted, fighting the overwhelming desire to look back and hug him.

You thought it was the best choice you could’ve made. The group was already too divided because of a silly mistake you did, and, contrary to popular belief, it seemed, you don’t always get what you want. For months, all your heart truly desired was a chance at knowing things could be just what you had been searching for your whole life, but with Frankie. Frankie had been the one constant inside of your mind, body and soul, the one thing which you could not shake and could not deny yourself of, and now that you got that taste again, you regained the long-lost feeling of that one night stand, things had changed in a way you would’ve never expected them to.

Overthinking had been one of your worst habits, and you were too deep in it to get a proper grip on reality anymore. It might’ve looked like you were what Frankie wanted, but how come you felt completely disconnected from him ever since you rekindled your passion? It hurt to even think about him, or Ben, or everything that was happening. It was the slowest-working poison in the world, infecting you slowly, tormenting you first.

It was suffocating to live inside your mind with all of that.

You had to go.

The day hadn’t been short of hurt. After Ben, you bid your goodbye to Will, who also tried to force you to stay but, unlike his brother, he actually hugged you and fought the urge to have an emotional reaction. His face appeared impassible, but he was crumbling just as much.

“Benny knows you’re leaving, right?”

“Yeah. He was the first one I told this to.”

“And uh – and Frankie?”

Your heart twitched and ached when you heard Frankie’s name, but your face did not betray that. You cleared your throat, appearing unaffected, even though tricks such as that one failed to work against Will Ironhead Miller.

“I’m – I’m on my way to tell him, too.”

“I thought – “

“Whatever everyone else thought, it’s not – it’s not like that. Okay? Whatever we all thought would happen… that the reason for leaving and breaking Benny’s heart would work out… it didn’t. It’s not.”

“So you’re gonna run away.”

Will was quite masterful at guilt-tripping. So much so that it nearly caused you to let out an involuntary moan, an audible indication of your inner struggle.

“I’m not running away, Will. I just need some time to myself. We all do.”

“Look, if this is really… what you want to do, then I respect your call. It’s your life.”

“Except it’s not. It’s gotten too tangled with everyone else and what everyone else cares and wants and – this is my decision now. This is what I feel like I need. I need – I need to breathe, Will. I need to be able to walk somewhere and not have Benny or Frankie or any of this on my mind. I need… I need peace. I need _me_.”

Will huffed, pulling into a hug again. “Send us pictures at least, okay?”

You chuckled at his chest, arms tightly wrapped around him. “Will do.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

At the very least he did not ask you when you would be back because you doubted you could’ve handled that conversation with him.

Next up was Catherine. She, on the other hand, did cry, but she could not wait for you to return and have you share all of your fantastic stories from your Europe. You only smiled in return, incapable of actually telling her what you had planned.

“Where’s Santi?” you asked her, looking around the living room. “I don’t wanna leave without saying goodbye to him, too.”

“He’s at Frankie’s, watching a football game.”

You nodded, hugging Catherine one more time, and you headed straight to Frankie’s, sluggishly, trying to mentally prepare yourself.

All you had to do was repeat what you told Ben, Will and Catherine. It was no big deal. Santiago would understand and be reasonable. He was a very reasonable and fair man.

You were only afraid of Frankie.

When you knocked on his front door, your heart was beating so fast you feared your neck had turned into one huge spasm. Your extremities had turned ice cold, yet your palms were sweaty and not even anxiously rubbing them against your jeans helped.

The door opened, Frankie’s messy hair and surprised facial expression greeting you in the most gut-wrenching way. You gulped, low on air and lacking the words.

“Hi,” you managed to get out.

“Hi.”

“I – I wanted to talk for a bit. Is that fine?”

Frankie looked at you as if you were a stranger, as if you were a girl scout selling cookies on his doorstep, and the realization nearly made you throw up. He nodded shortly, opening the door wider for you to walk in, and your skin crawled.

You saw Santiago on the couch with a beer, turning his head once you’re in his visual field. He stands up excitedly, and a little drunkenly, too, and hugs you tightly. You feel yourself breaking down again, but you force yourself to smile as Frankie gestures you to have a seat, saying nothing in return.

“Feels like we haven’t hung out in years,” Santiago said, giggling.

“Yeah, uh… I’m not here to hang out, Pope. I’m here to – “

You could feel Frankie’s intense gaze lingering on you, and it took every ounce of strength and determination to not look directly at him, despite that being the thing you wanted the most. You wanted to look only at him, to get lost in his soft, brown eyes, to feel him wrapped around you, safely surrounding you with his arms.

“I’m here to say goodbye,” you got it out.

Santiago muted the TV, fully turning towards you. You focused on him and him alone, unable for the time being to even sneak a peek at Frankie. You could have easily imagined his reaction, and you were not yet prepared for it, despite all of the practice you’ve done on your ride there and how much you lied to yourself.

“What do you mean ‘say goodbye’?” Santiago asked.

“I’m leaving. I’m doing some traveling until… well, until _hopefully_ things get sorted out between you guys.”

“You’re just gonna go?”

“Yeah. I – I’ve been putting off this extensive travel for long time and… I kinda feel like the time is right now.”

“But – but what about – “

Santiago hesitated. He knew damn well why, and so did you, and so did Frankie. Words needn’t come out of his mouth or his mind. It was as clear as the broad daylight.

“Anyway,” you wanted to fill in the dead air, “it’s for a few months.”

_You shameless liar._

“I think we could all use a breather.”

_A shred of truth, good for you._

“Still, I mean – this is your home.”

“It always will be.”

Santiago frowned. “Y/N, why does it sound like a more permanent goodbye rather than a temporary one?”

“Don’t sweat it, Pope.”

You smiled reassuringly, drowning in your own emotions in the meantime.

_You shameless, cruel liar._

“Pope, you should leave.”

Frankie’s voice was dark, low and demanding. When you turned to him, that first eye contact turned out _deadly_. Suddenly you were sweating much more than before, your mind filled with all things Frankie. You stared at one another.

“I wanna talk to Y/N alone. Please.”

Santiago stood up, looking at you with something a little more than just sadness.

It was pity. You knew it to be true.

You had that same look every single for the past month whenever you looked in the mirror.

“I at least get to hug you and wish you a safe travel, right?”

You smiled and nodded, nearly jumping into his arms. You felt sincerity in his embrace, something purely amiable that warmed you up for a brief moment.

The moment was gone the second Santiago was. Frankie called him a cab and, upon closing the door, went back to staring at you. There were many feelings inside of him, raging like a caged lion, all from anger to fear and disappointment, but more so, an agonizing ache.

“Are you gonna come back from this travel? Or is this it? Are we done?” he asked.

“We’ve been done pretty much since you and Ben fell apart. We should just admit that.”

“Hmm. Okay. So you’re just gonna flee the country, not give me any warning or choice?”

“ _You_ want a choice?”

You chuckled nervously, feeling incredibly flushed and on edge. “I bid everyone goodbye the entire day, and each time, each person, without fail, told me that it is unfair to them, but that I should still be selfish and do what’s best for me. How the hell does that work? How the hell can I do what’s best for myself when you all hang onto me?”

“I’m not going to say otherwise.”

The physical and emotional distance in between you two was asphyxiating.

“You got me fuckin’ hooked on you, Y/N. I want you to be selfish. _With me_.”

His emphasis did zero good to you. It made you wanna rip your hair out in frustration and wrath. “Let me refresh your memory. What happened the last time we were selfish and took what we wanted?”

You approached him, barely containing yourself. That months’ worth of tension and pain and loneliness and doubts was hovering above you, eating you up and ready to explode.

“Look around you, Frankie. Look at what happened. I can’t be the one responsible for the loss of your best friend.”

“You’re blaming yourself so much that you’re ready to move away?”

“I didn’t say I was – “

“’It’s always gonna be my home. It’s only a few months’. You’re bluffing.”

He did a few steps himself to enclose the space between you and him and you gulped, struggling to organize your chaotic thoughts, but to no avail.

You felt like you were drowning.

“I cannot stand the idea that I drove you and Ben away, okay? I need some time to breathe and process the idea that I risked everything for another one night stand which clearly meant more to me than it did to you.”

Without fail, Frankie’s jaw dropped, his enraged and hurt face closer to yours. “What did you say?”

He could barely mutter the words without any impulsive action, but he needed to hear you loud and clear one more time.

“We had different fantasies in our minds,” you whispered. “You wanted to find the best sex of your life, and I wanted – “

“What?”

When you couldn’t get your words out, Frankie stepped even closer, your breath on his face, tickling his scratchy beard. “What did you want?”

“I wanted my best friend, with whom I’ve fallen in love with. I wanted you, more than I ever thought possible, more than I ever allowed myself to think. So you see? We lived different fantasies. And now that you’ve got yours… we should just admit it was great, it was mind-blowing, but it ruined everything.”

“You think I only care about the physical part? That I only cared about fucking you?”

“I haven’t seen you this entire month, Frankie. I could only think about you and think about that night, both of them, and think that you never even so much as indicated anything else than sheer pleasure at fucking me. That’s it.”

“Y/N, you – you don’t – “

“And you know what, fine. If you felt only the need to bury yourself in me, then… fine. I’ll be over it. I’ll – hell, maybe I can give it another go with Benny. At least with him I always knew where I stood.”

Frankie’s breaths were ragged, impulsive, and the veins on his neck were pulsating through his skin. The way he was merely breathing, doing that simple human and basic act was oh, fucking hell, so ridiculously enticing that your entire body burned as you could only stare at him.

“You are selfish,” he cooed.

_“Excuse me?”_

“And you’re apparently a terrible friend, too.”

You were close to slapping him if it wouldn’t have been for that damned way he was looking at you, his hot, enraged breath on your face.

“I did not spend two years of my life thinking about that girl just for the idea that she was great in bed.”

“You’re confirming what I just said!”

“Did you consider how that night felt for me? How I might’ve felt afterwards? Let me tell you how it felt. It felt like the most comfortable, familiar and lovely place I’ve ever been in. From the second I entered you, every kiss, every fucking touch, every sound was musical. It was… heaven. It felt like I was living in heaven inside of you. And do you know where else I encountered that familiar feeling? Every night we went dancing, or drinking. It was always the same feeling, with you.”

You couldn’t say a single word in return. You could only try to control your breaths but it was posing such a difficulty when all your mind and body wanted to do was show Frankie that you had, in fact, always belonged to him.

“It was not just physical,” he insisted.

“How the fuck can you honestly say that?”

“Do you even fucking know why I broke up with Elisa?!”

He raised his voice, clearly having reached a point of no return. A point of such high passion and breakage alike that it completely controlled him.

“You said… you were too different or something, I don’t – “

“I screamed. Your name. Five times. On five different occasions.”

Your eyes widened, not having expected that twist. You could only watch his body movements, admiring in a sickeningly pleasurable way.

“I screamed your name, I saw your face, I… I wanted to hear… you. You… own me, Y/N. You’ve always owned me. Whenever we were dancing, it burned me to touch you, to hold you. You’ve always owned me, completely and irrevocably. And when you said you were that girl, when you made me kiss you…”

He placed his index and thumb over your chin, delicately running them over your jaw, sending shivers on your spine as he gently pulled you to him. His other hand was on your waist, his fingers merely touching the surface of your blouse, but you trembled even underneath that almost non-existent contact.

“When I kissed you, I was home,” he finished, eyes devouring your lips.

“Then where the hell were you lately?”

He could sense the muscles contract in your body, even in your jaw as he held your chin close to his, inhaling your scent.

“Call me a coward. Or an ashamed son of a bitch.”

“Fine.”

Frankie could’ve chuckled if he wouldn’t have hastily remembered what you came to his place to do, and his heart sunk.

“I wasted too much time already,” he whispered, anger replaced by an awful sense of loneliness. “Two years, two whole years, now this entire month – I was guilty. I am guilty. I lost Ben because… fucking shit, Y/N, you can’t even begin to understand how you make me feel… I am so… hopeless. But you can’t – no, you can’t leave.”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You can’t.”

“It’s my choice, Frankie. ‘Be selfish’, remember?”

_“With me.”_

He said it with a cruel need, a certain sense of urgency speeding through his and your body alike. It was as if you had become one person, responding to his every touch and word, feeling that same need, that same craving to latch onto him.

“I’ve packed my things,” you choked on your words.

“Unpack them.”

“I’ve said goodbye to everyone, I’ve… put them and myself through emotional hell, I – I have to leave.”

“You don’t.”

“Frankie – “

“Don’t leave. You can’t leave. You can’t just leave and not come back.”

“I never said that I won’t come back.”

“You don’t want to.”

You looked at him, once again with guilt, knowing it of course to be true. You did want to leave and never come back, start anew somewhere else without your heavy conscience.

But having Frankie in such dangerous proximity to you once again proved that you could not make that definitive move.

“You and Benny – “you said breathless.

“I’ll patch things up with him, I swear I will. But I can’t do it, I can’t – I can’t function if you leave.”

“I feel like I’m drowning, Frankie.”

“You don’t have to.”

Any protest was erased from your mind and lips as Frankie pressed his lips on yours, his tongue darting inside your mouth. The kiss was greedy, tense and passionate all at once, as if it was eating both of you alive. His hands on either sides of your face, Frankie kept kissing you, unapologetically, moving into you until you felt your back hit a wall. Your body curved under his touch, your back arching when you felt his left hand grip your thigh and place it around his waist. You groaned in his mouth, your entire body afire at the touch, and wrapped your arms around his neck, gently caressing it, driving him utterly insane.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned into the kiss as well.

His lips traveled all the way down to your neck in a haste. He was needy and scared and turned on, and it suddenly felt like there wasn’t any time left for you and him. That thought alone ruined him as he broke the kiss to rip the blouse you wore in half, carelessly throwing it to the floor. His hands grabbed your breasts, squeezing them while his mouth ravaged yours. You wanted to scream his name, badly, justifiably so, but all you could do was moan, wish for him to be as close to you as possible, as fast as possible.

You pulled at his t-shirt, which he quickly disposed of, followed by the removal of your bra, pants and underwear, as well as his own lower half of clothes. The slight cool air hit your naked body, but Frankie made sure you didn’t have the time to feel that; his arms lifted you up, lowering you onto his erection as gently as he could, his large, calloused hands on your lower back and ass, guiding you up and down on him. You moaned at the first stretch of his cock inside of you, louder even when he pressed kisses in between your breasts and you bounced up and down on him.

“F-Fuck – F-Frank-kie – “

“It’s alright, baby – alright, baby – “

The pace was fast and unforgiving; you wanted nothing slow anyway. You tugged at a few locks of his hair as his face was buried in your chest, his breath tickling your nipples. The ecstasy was mind-blowing, explosive. His lips departed from your skin only to get a good look at you. Exquisite beauty, he thought. You took him all in, mouth agape as he went to hit that sweet spot of yours, the need for closure consuming you both.

“Don’t leave, baby – “he muttered seemingly like a prayer he learned long time ago. “Don’t – don’t leave – “

You could only moan in response, biting your lower lip at how _insanely_ fucking great that man felt.

“Fuck – fuck, baby – _oh_ – “

His insides burned, a spasm rising in his balls as he came, opening his mouth to grunt your name, the only name he seemed to know. As a response, you smiled fleetingly, feeling your own climax rise in your groins. Sure enough, once Frankie’s mouth was back on your neck, biting down on you, muttering sweet nothings against your earlobe, moving you faster down on his cock, you came hard, legs shaking around him, head tapping the wall and mind in a frenzy.

You didn’t settle down. It didn’t feel like enough.

Frankie lowered you, pressing you onto the couch, trailing hungry kisses from your breasts all the way down. Feeling his mouth and beard against your hot core was a kink in itself, and when you felt his tongue harshly lick at your folds, you clenched, hips thrusting forward to meet his face. Frankie dived in face first, soaking every ounce of juice you had to offer, working against your clit and your bud with nothing but his lips. He kissed you, intimately and outrageously tender, and you shivered. You could’ve came a second time just from that, but then he began to add his thumb into the play and you said his name a second time.

“How m-many times – did you say – my name?” you writhed.

Frankie lifted his head from in between your legs, teasingly wetting his lower lip.

“Five.”

Before you could mutter a reply, he smirked, immediately catching onto you. His mouth resumed its sweet torture over your already swollen pussy, forcing his tongue in and out of you, for which he gained a loud moan from you and a tight grip on his hair.

“Fucking – shit – _shit_ – “

He moved so hard and deeply against your pussy that when you came, you thrust your hips forward again, as much as you could, only to have his face buried there for all eternity. You screamed his name again, a third time, whilst he sucked you dry, completely.

When he rose from in between your legs again, you saw him lick his lips and stare at you mercilessly. You still didn’t settle down, and you anticipated him more and more, especially as he stroked himself a few times, not once breaking eye contact with you. He leaned in, his forehead pressed to yours, and you closed your eyes when he entered you again, holding your leg at a higher angle which allowed for a deeper hit than he did previously. Your fingers were tracing the muscles on his back as he rocked you back and front, burying himself balls deep inside of you, overlooking the rest of the world for one highly needed and sadly fleeting moment.

His grunts were simply orgasmic, and so was his every move. His nose was touching yours, and you felt him tremble inside of you, thrusting fast and hard.

“I love you s-so fucking – much, Y/N,” he muttered, eyes closed as well. “I love you, I – adore you… you’re – everything… to me… please – “

“F-Frankie – “

“Please don’t – don’t leave – “

He moved fast, desperately so it seemed, completely disregarding anything else. He felt no sore in his arms or legs, nothing but you. He only felt you, he only saw you and needed you. Your name was a prayer on his lips, a word he used as escapism from the harsh reality, and he has said it for longer than he could remember. Even in his lonely nights, horny and drunk, your name was the first that came to mind. Your beautiful features, all enticing and wonderful laid out before his eyes. Many were the times he came just after invoking your name, stroking himself hard a few times, his cum spilled all over himself and the floor, shameless and needy.

Just like he was now.

He felt you tighten around his cock, gasping as you did so; the mere contact, the feeling of your warmth around his length was maddening on its own, but paired with your sounds, your pleads for him, his name, and the movement of your body sent him into a frenzy unknown to mankind. His muscles contracted, his body burned with an insatiable desire for you and you alone and he came, your name on his lips just as his was on yours.

“That was three,” he breathlessly counted.

You wanted to smile, but truthfully, when he positioned you onto his lap again, safely bouncing you up and down on him again, you had forgotten everything you had meant to say. There was nothing to be said; you only wanted him. You only ever truly wanted him, and in that moment, when he thrust himself deep within you, you did not give a shit about how selfish or arrogant you might’ve came across. It was just you and him, exhibiting the kind of passion that so many people searched for their entire lives.

You came a fourth time, almost in sync with him, and said his name again.

And you came a fifth time, screaming his name as he took your from behind, pressing rushed kissed over your back, holding onto your hips for support and a grip on reality.

There was no one you ever loved more than you loved Frankie Morales, and he loved no one more than he loved you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when you return home, Santiago breaks some news to you that make everything else seem futile compared to it, and you’re anxious to see Frankie again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Mentions of blood and injuries!

Three months later, everything looked the same. Nothing had changed, and not even you had. You had hoped that your excursion throughout Europe would change something about you or your perception over reality, but the truth of it was that you missed home like crazy. You missed everyone, and most of all, you were dying to know how things were between Ben and Frankie.

And for the last three months, the epicenter of your every thought was Frankie. Especially given how your goodbye went, your mind hung onto that memory throughout your travels, replaying it over and over, soothing your nerves and aiding you in those nights when you felt like adding a little fun to your otherwise grey situation.

You took the weekend to enjoy your time at home, but Monday rolled around and you couldn’t stand it anymore. You had to see Frankie. You had to talk to him, to see him.

You drove to his house, almost too impatient to pay proper attention to the road itself. Once you finally got there, you sprinted to the front door, rang the doorbell and waited. The time lag was unbearable. You began to fuss, cracking your knuckles and bouncing one legs restlessly. There were too many thing going around in your head at that time, and neither aided you in your quest to preserve a certain level of sanity. Rapidly, you began to wonder what his reaction will be upon seeing you. After all, you did leave after his endless plea for you to stay, leaving his side just like you did the very first time you slept together, two years prior. And you felt guilty for that, but you had a plan.

Now that the plan was over, it was time to pick up the mess.

You held your breath when the door opened, but quickly exhaled as you were met with Santiago’s surprised face.

“Pope,” you breathed. “What are you doing here?”

“Question is, what you are doing here!”

He dropped the bag in his hand to offer you a tight hug, and you welcomed in with a hole in your stomach. You had missed him dearly, just as much as you had missed the rest.

“How have you been? Are you okay?” you asked from somewhere in the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, I… things have been crazy, but… good. Real good. Most of the time.”

He looked shyly at you, hands on his hips, and you reckoned that he wanted to share something major.

“Catherine’s pregnant.”

Your whole face lit up with surprise and you hugged him again, muttering “Congratulations!” and “You’re gonna be amazing parents!” as well as “I am so happy for both of you!” And you were sincere. After all the shit Santiago went through, it was about damn time something good like that happened to him.

“So what are you doing here? Where’s Frankie?”

Santiago’s face suddenly darkened, and this time you could tell for sure there were no good news.

“Pope… where’s Frankie?”

“He’s fine. Now. But he – he came back a week ago, he had to be patched up…”

Your eyes widened. “Where the hell is Frankie and what the hell happened?!”

“He – he went on a mission, a month ago, and… he got framed, things got ugly… he got shot.”

Every frame around you seemed blurry, and it came crashing down on you all at once. You weren’t discerning anything else aside the brutal information that Frankie had been shot. Santiago was explaining in excruciating detail what had happened, how Frankie had been framed for carrying cocaine on him when all he was doing was secure some VIP in a villa in Mexico, but you barely registered that.

“– He’s in the hospital if you wanna – “

“Take me.”

Without anything else to comment, Santiago drove both of you to the hospital, trying to make any other small talk with you to keep you distracted or calm you down, but neither worked. You were picturing Frankie on the cold, hard ground, blood dripping from all over him as he tried to hang onto life, cold fingers gripping the invisible line between that and death.

When you got out of the car, you pushed past the several people in your way in your attempt to get to the front desk, asking for Frankie’s full name. Santiago was right behind you as you went to the elevator, trying to calm you down, but you did not listen. All of a sudden, everything that happened in the past few months became irrelevant. Your departure, the fight between the two men, the pain, none of it mattered. It seemed even juvenile if you thought about it.

Santiago entered first in the salon, gesturing to you to follow him. Your steps were heavy, tensed and shy at the same time. Your face lit up as you noticed Ben chatting with Frankie, calmly and friendly as you know they used to. Both men turned to you, Benny being the first – and only one – to greet you, moving forward to you and taking you in his arms. His hugs were always so welcoming and warm, despite the nature of his work, and you always felt safe and loved in his arms. He placed his head on your shoulder, maintaining the contact for a while.

“Hey stranger,” he muttered in the crook of your neck.

“Hey, Benny.”

Your voice was shaky, but joyous. When you finally looked at him, you saw him much healthier than how he was when you left. His smile was just as playful and sincere as always, and at last you shifted your glare onto Frankie, lying in the bed.

His face carried a few small cuts and bruises, purple and red, and he did not reveal any facial expression. He simply looked at you, gaze somehow passing right _through_ you even, but you approached the bed nonetheless.

“What the hell happened?” you whispered.

You knew the story already, but you needed to hear it from Frankie. You just needed to hear a justification, something, anything that would make you understand the reasoning behind his apparent suicidal mission.

“Didn’t Pope tell you?” Ben asked.

“I did.”

“Then you don’t need to hear it again,” Frankie shrugged.

“I do. I need to hear it from you.”

You recognized the temper in your voice, the buildup to the impending volcano of anger about to erupt from within. Ben and Santiago sensed it just as much; they learned in those years that when you were mad, you meant business. Both of them stepped aside, headed for the exit.

“Give a few minutes, please,” you asked them.

Without further ado, they left the salon, trying to sneak in glances at you and Frankie through the glass.

“Good thing you’re on bed rest,” you addressed Frankie. “You can only sit there and listen to me.”

“Isn’t that emotional abuse?”

“You would’ve known if it was.”

Silence installed itself uncomfortably in between you and him as you rummaged the words you wanted to get out. But you realized that none of them would come out right or even with sense. You were distressed, terrified of the future’s prospect, and mad.

“Pope said you got shot.”

“I did.”

“How many times?”

You frowned, and he mirrored the gesture. “Why would you want to know – “

“How many times?”

“Two.”

His eyes were focused totally elsewhere but on you. There was a slight guilt in his body language, one that you shared to a degree, but there was so much more you needed to clarify, so much more than needed to be said.

“What happened in Mexico?”

Frankie sighed, clearly not willing to give away anything. But the more you stood there in that painful silence, fury seeping through your pores, the worst he felt, and for all of the reasons he failed to comprehend.

“It was just a job,” he muttered, looking ahead.

“Just a job? Pope told me you got framed for carrying cocaine. That’s why you got shot. _Twice!_ ”

“If you know what happened, why do you have to ask me? Why do you need to know so badly?”

“Because I need something that justifies your stupid decision! I need something, anything, really, that would make me understand why you left to do such a dangerous, reckless thing!”

His eyes shot at you, anger sprinkled in his gaze as well. “I left because you left! It’s as easy as that!”

“I left because you and Ben were in a terrible place and I wanted to give you both the space and time to heal, to fix your issues! You, on the other hand, left for stupid and life-threatening reasons and – and for what? What did that prove? That you’re mortal? Good job!”

“You were gone… for three months, Y/N. In those three months, everyone did something to move on. Benny kept winning matches, getting more and more recognition, Will opened his own shop, Santi and Cat are gonna have a baby… and where was I? I was in the same place, left without one of my best friends and the girl that I was probably supposed to end up with. I had to do something, I had to… move, to… feel alive.”

“By… risking your life?”

“I’m still here. Sawn up and still in the same place as I was.”

“What was your plan, exactly? To go out there, do that job and then… what? Go to the next one?”

“Maybe.”

The idea broke your heart more than you would’ve imagined. It was again through some of your own fault, but his recklessness was something you could not take credit for, nor place the blame on you for it.

“You could’ve died out there,” you murmured, the thought visibly affecting you. “You could’ve died and none of us would’ve known.”

“Pope knew where I was.”

“Oh. That’s a relief.”

Your sarcasm cut deep through him, deeper than those bullets ever did. “I don’t know what I would’ve done, okay? I would’ve went from job to job probably and… that would be it. Because I’m a fucking great pilot and I could’ve made a great living out of it. I didn’t even know if you were coming back.”

“I told you – “

“You told me nothing! You said you _might_ come back. And judging by the look on your face and your tone… you didn’t want to.”

You hesitated to reply anything. Deep down, you recalled your hasty decision to move away, but when you sneaked out after sleeping with Frankie, even you realized it was a very ridiculous choice. You couldn’t just uproot yourself that easily.

And you weren’t sure how much credit there was to give to Frankie, but he was a major contributing factor.

“Were you gonna come back?” he asked.

“Yes. I might’ve considered leaving for good for a brief moment, but… I could never leave like that.”

“Except you did. You sneaked out in the middle of the night, just like you did when we slept together two years ago.”

“I needed to leave. And I know you understand that.”

“I do. I do understand that, but it was selfish of you to do.”

“ _I_ was selfish? For allowing you and your best friend some time and space?”

“For walking out like that on me, on us!”

“You wanna talk about selfish? You went off to some suicide mission!”

“Because you were gone! You walked out on us!”

“There was no us at the time!”

“It was always us, Y/N!”

You stared at him in disbelief, not really recognizing yourself or him. There was so much still left in between you two, so many unaddressed things.

“It was always you and me, even if we were both too cowards to… do anything.”

“How? All you remembered from that drunken one night stand was the – the physical part. The touch, the moans… for two years you wanted that feeling again, and I – “

“I wanted _you_ , not whatever fantasy you think I had in mind. For the past years… I searched for that same warmth, that same cozy feeling as I shared with that woman. When you told me it was you, when I remembered the bits and pieces of what we did… it made so much fuckin’ sense. All of it made sense.”

He paused, searching your face for something that he wasn’t quite clear on.

“There was always… something in between us, something happening here and we – we never acted on it. That night was just the tip of the iceberg.”

“I know. I figured it was just some silly physical attraction but… God, Frankie, for the past two years, all that _I_ wanted was… justice.”

Frankie frowned at you, unsure of where you were going with that.

“It was attraction at first sight with Benny, and you know that, no need for me to say it out loud again.”

“No, really not.”

You chuckled softly. “And I love him. But – “

Your eyes got suddenly flooded with tears and you fought hard to keep them back as you smiled fondly at him.

“But the way _you_ make me feel… it’s driving me crazy. In all the years that we’ve known each other and been friends, every time we hung out it was… different. It was different than me and Pope hanging out, or me and Will hanging out. It was better in every way. Just the way you make me laugh, the way you make me laugh… all of it. As much as I fought it, as much as I tried to deny it, tooth and nail, it came back ten times stronger and bit me in the ass.”

“At least something did.”

You chuckled against your will. “See, this is what I mean. You always… I’ve been hopelessly in love with you forever, even if I didn’t realize it before that one night stand. You were right. It’s always been about you and me, and… damn it, Frankie, I couldn’t even leave. I wanted to, yes, for a brief moment, and… I couldn’t do it. For all of you, my family, but… you.”

“You know, if I wasn’t in pain still, I would jump on you.”

You chuckled again, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking his hand into yours.

“Now, I don’t remember everything from that night exactly… only some things which logistically seem impossible but somehow we made it work.”

“We were drunk, so it all seemed possible.”

“But what did I… say to you? Did I at least say something nice or flattering to you?”

You smiled, fondly remembering that night second by second.

“You said that nobody gets you like I do, and that if you were to trust your life in someone’s hands, it would be me, without hesitation – “

“Not even Pope?”

“I asked that same question, you said ‘screw Pope, he’s most of the time annoying anyway’.”

Frankie laughed, in spite of the mild pain, and listened to you further.

“And you said that… there was always something about me that made you happy. You didn’t know what it was, but you knew it was real. And then you got drunker, thought I was someone else and – “

“The rest is history. Got it.” 

“So are you and Ben okay?”

“We’re good. We’re best friends again. We talked it out politely and sorted everything. You’d be surprised how much bonding you can do when you’re on the verge of death.”

“Idiot.”

He frowned, chuckling as well.

“But yeah, I can imagine,” you conceded.

_“Kiss her, you moron!”_

You and Frankie turned your heads to be met with Santiago and Ben’s curious faces beyond the glass, looking excitedly at you two.

 _“Come on, Catfish, don’t be an idiot!”_ Santiago enforced.

“Would you knock it off?” you said, half amused and half annoyed.

_“Morales, if you don’t kiss her, fair warning, someone out here will! And we both know it ain’t Pope.”_

Ben’s smirk made Frankie feel uneasy, but more so encouraged him to act upon it. Right as you turned to smile at him, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you in for a kiss, the kind you can only dream of and get lost in, the kind that consumed you and weakened you.

And you were right. When you’re on the verge of losing someone forever, everything else in between fades into forgetfulness.

And suddenly, nothing else mattered but you and Frankie.


End file.
